


Time For Memories

by YanzaDracan



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Drama, Episode Tag, Gen, M/M, Memories, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanzaDracan/pseuds/YanzaDracan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song prompt: <i>The One I Want</i> by Steve Carlson</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time For Memories

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own them, various producers and studio executives who make more money than I can imagine own them. I'm not making any money. Any goofs are mine.

After they buried Sam, Nate lost himself and Maggie--in his work or in the bottle. With nothing left to lose, but his life, he started chasing retrieval specialists, thieves that were known for their use of violence to take what they wanted.

**_Why can't I get you off my mind_ **

**_I'm like a circus tiger in a circle of fire_ **

**_Now that you're gone_ **

**_I'm thinking maybe I was wrong_ **

**_For ever stepping in_ **

Rumor had it that a rare first edition of **_De Profundis_** , insured by IYS, was the prize in a game between two collectors who got their jollies pitting their hired thieves against one another. After all whose going to care if something happens to some thief.

Lately, however, they had stepped up their game, escalated to using retrieval specialists, and the wrong people were beginning to notice.

Nate had been sent to try and talk them into ending their game. The men had humored him, plied him with superb scotch then sent him on his way.

Unbeknownst to Nate, he had a passenger when he left the estate.

Exhausted and drunk, he tried to avoid the deer that jumped in front of him and in the process sideswiped a tree and came to rest against a stone wall.

When the car finally came to a jarring stop, a figure dressed in dark clothes slipped, out of the back seat, cursing quietly, to check the driver.

 _*Of all the cars ya coulda pick-ya hadda pick the one driven by a drunk**._ With a snort of disgust, Eliot Spencer pulled the unconscious driver out of the seat and tossed him none too gently in the back.

 _**Well looky there. It's been quite a night. I got a first edition Oscar Wilde and an original Nathan Ford-let's see where IYS is bunkin' ya while you're in town.**_ He went through Nate's pockets looking for a room key.

 _**Hmph, Not a bad choice, might just have ta see ya to your door. I ain't no gentlemen, but mama did git a few manners ta stick.**_ He thinks as he kicks the front fender away from the tire and heads to one of the nicer hotels in town.

Nate groans as consciousness returns. The last thing he remembers was a deer and…he flails briefly until he finds he's lying on a bed. His eyes snap open to twinkling blue-grey eyes and a smirk of pure mischief on a ruggedly handsome face.

"Bout time ya woke up." Seeing Ford's pupils equal and responsive, the long haired man moved toward the door. "Ya might wanna come up with a story for the wrinkled fender." He gave the man on the bed a two fingered salute.

"Wait! How'd you know where I was staying? How'd you find me?" Nate started to sit up, but his head and stomach rebelled at the quick movement.

"That's what I do." He pronounced as he exited the room.

By the time Nate got to the door, there was no sign of the stranger.

**_Now you're a ghost in my mind_ **

**_Yeah the upstairs is haunted,_ **

**_and all that I wanted_ **

**_Was to get out alive,_ **

**_but the sheets always win_ **

**_In the shape that I'm in_ **

Two years later, Victor Dubenich hands Nathan Ford a folder. He was finally going to get up close and personal with one of his ghosts.

**_I gotta take myself back where I was when I met you_ **

**_And if you want back I will try not to let you_ **

A year later, he stands looking out the window at the ocean, nursing a cup of coffee with a liberal dash of Black Jack. Eliot's stretched out in the big bed, the evidence of Quinn's handiwork stark against the white sheets.

He sets his cup on the window sill, and moves toward the bed. His hand doesn't quite touch, but pale eyes snap open.

"Nate?" Eliot's voice is worn, rough.

"'S'okay. Just checking, you're still with me." Nate soothes. "We're fine--we're safe."

"Always." Dark lashes sweep down as Eliot drifts off.

A kiss on the sleep warmed temple and Nate returns to his post by the windows.

**_'Cause on a cold dark day, you're the one I want_ **

**_When there's warm, sunny days, you're the one I want_ **

**_And in every imaginary way, you're the one I want_ **

**_You're the one I want_ **

~ Fini ~


End file.
